Scars
by tormented eyes
Summary: PostRent. Sequel to Actual Reality. While catching him off guard, Mimi discovers a secret about Mark. The atmosphere goes from playful to tense when Roger discovers the secret too, leaving Mimi with only more questions. Read and review?
1. Scars

A/N: So. This is a sequel to "Actual Reality." Sort of. You could also read "Giving a Gift" to know what day Roger's referring to, but, again, it's not necessary. Enjoy.

I own nothing.

* * *

Mimi sat in the loft, bored. She came over to hang with her two favorite boho boys, but Roger was sleeping, and Mark was apparently in the shower.

She supposed she should have made her presence known – and she would have – but it was such a rewarding sight when Mark emerged from the bathroom, clad only in boxers, hands busying themselves with drying his hair, his towel blocking his vision.

Mimi watched with a raised eyebrow, a smirk forming on her lips. She whistled. Mark nearly tripped as he realized he wasn't alone. Mimi laughed as he just stood there awkwardly, his hands at his side and towel hanging off his head. He blinked at her.

"Well, look at you," she cooed, making the filmmaker blush, "who knew you looked that good shirtless, despite being on the pale side." She giggled.

Mark finally recovered from his initial shock and rolled his eyes. "Good morning to you, too." He turned to escape to his room, and that's when Mimi saw it.

"Hey, wait!" She called, sitting up straight on the couch. Mark faced her again, eyebrow raised at her tone. "Where'd you get that scar?"

Mark seemed to stiffen, his eyes growing slightly wider. "Don't remember." He said hurriedly.

"Bullshit!" Mimi scoffed. "That thing looks like something you get from a gang fight." She said in slight awe.

It was a cool sight, though, at least to her. It was a jagged line across the top of his right arm, easily hidden by whatever shirt he would wear, which is probably why she never knew about it. The scar was a little frightening, though, too. It stood out easily against Mark's fair skin, an ugly faded purple-ish color. What on Earth could have caused it?

Mimi waited for Mark's answer, but he just stood there, rigid. "Mark, tell me," she coaxed, "that thing looks vicious!" She got up to move to him but paused when Mark flinched slightly. "Mark?"

"It's nothing, Mimi!" Mark stated, his voice too loud even to himself. He made to leave again when he stopped still at the sight of a yawning Roger emerging from his bedroom.

The musician was scratching his head, a confused look on his face. "What's going on?" He looked at Mimi to Mark.

Before Mark could say anything, Mimi chirped, "Mark won't tell me where he got the scar on his arm." Roger cocked his head.

"It's nothing." Mark insisted as he brought his towel from his head to his shoulders as if wearing a shawl, effectively hiding said scar.

Roger blinked, sleep still holding him some. "Mark has a scar?" Roger asked Mimi, intrigued.

"How could _you_ not notice?" Mimi questioned incredulously. "It looks like he was in a knife fight!"

Mimi watched as Roger processed the information, noting how, in an instant, any trace of sleepiness quickly left Roger's features. She watched as his eyes widened as confusion, uncertainty and horror each crossed over his face. Mimi saw him clench his fists, and she noticed Mark tremble slightly.

Then, Roger moved. He rushed at Mark, making the filmmaker flinch when Roger clenched at his towel. "You son of a bitch!" Roger growled. Mimi froze at the anger in her boyfriend's voice.

"Roger..." Mark began.

"You stupid, son of a bitch." Roger yanked the towel away from Mark, exposing the pale flesh and the ugly scar.

Everything stopped. Mark didn't breathe as Roger stared at him, at the scar. Mimi found herself holding her breath too, afraid to interrupt the scene before her.

Roger slowly raised his arm, hand inching toward the perversion on Mark's skin. There was a hesitancy that Mimi noticed in his movements, almost as if he were afraid to touch it, like he didn't think it was real.

Mark just stared at the floor, unable or unwilling to meet his roommate's eyes. Roger's hand was mere inches from the skin, but he stopped short, his hand clenching into a fist. For a moment, it looked like he was going to cry. Then, though, Roger turned away and hurried to his room, slamming the door. Mimi stared at Mark, who just stood there, boring holes into the floor.

"What the hell, Mark?" Mimi asked at length. Mark seemed confused, as if just realizing she hadn't left. "Why did he react like that? It doesn't make sense..." Mimi gazed at him, her eyes gleaming with something Mark couldn't really place.

"Um," Mark kind of fidgeted, feeling rather exposed by his naked chest, "Roger, he... gave me this scar." Mark said slowly, hand going to cover the perversion on his skin. Mimi just looked at the man before her, not quite believing.

"Please," Mimi scoffed, "Like he'd be able to hurt _you_. You're Mark _fucking_ Cohen." Mimi almost spat, a trace of resentment laced in her voice. Mark looked a little hurt. Mimi bit her lip. "Roger wouldn't hurt his best friend." She added, softer.

Mark sighed, rubbing the back of his neck uneasily. "He wasn't himself during withdrawal." Mimi narrowed her eyes at the word, her brow furrowing. Mark sighed again before explaining. "Collins went out to get food or something; hell if I remember. Roger was sleeping, or so I thought." Mark paused, sending the tiniest glance to Roger's door.

"Go on," Mimi was growing anxious. "What happened?"

Mark took a breath. "He came at me, talking nonsense for a hit. He was weaker than normal, but he was also more desperate, so that must have been what made him act so violently. We got in a tussle, and he threw me into that," Mark pointed at an old coffee table-like stand that was semi-hiding behind the couch, and Mimi noticed how one leg was duck taped back together, "The leg broke and pierced my skin, and I was down for the count. Collins came back and was furious. I'd never seen him that angry before. Collins yelled at him for a good bit, all the while getting me off the floor and to the Clinic.

"I was treated – nothing really exciting to tell. When we got back, Roger had hauled himself up in his room. I tried to coax him out, but he wouldn't have it. Collins told me it was for the better. After that, he rarely came out, only doing so when I begged him to eat. I still don't know what happened. Collins might, but he'd never tell me. When Roger was better and finally out of his room, he noticed the table and asked about it. I guess he didn't remember, so I never told him. Instead, I made up some story about a rat or something."

Mark finished with a glance to Roger's closed door, unconsciously running his hand over his scar.

"So," Mimi began, trying to take in the information, "he's upset because you kept it from him?" Mimi narrowed her eyes as she framed the question, still unsure if she understood.

"I'm guessing. I basically lied to him, kept something important from him. Plus, he's probably even more upset after my whole... escape method." Mark adverted his eyes after saying this. He knew Mimi knew, but it didn't mean he wanted to or liked talking about it.

They stood in silence for a while. Mimi stared at Mark, her eyes aglow. Then, after a quick glance at Roger's door, she asked, "Mark... Have you and Roger ever done anything sexual together, besides that dumb decision of yours?"

Mark blinked at her, unsure if she was seriously asking him that question. "No." He answered. "Why would you even think that?" He looked at her, trying to get a sense of what she was feeling or thinking.

Mimi just stared back, shrugging. "It seems like there's something more to you two." The way she gazed at him made Mark extremely uncomfortable. "I mean, Collins and Maureen always joke about how you two are such a couple and how in love you are. I was kind of worried when I first started dating him." She seemed to let her guard down, her eyes revealing a kind of sadness. It passed quickly, however, and she met Mark's eyes with the same intenseness she had when she asked the question.

Mark sighed and, feeling the exhaustion of answering her coming on, pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, Mimi, Collins and Maureen love to joke. That's all that talk is, a joke." Mimi still looked skeptic. "I promise you, Mimi, that's all it is. Hell, I still love Maureen." Mimi seemed genuinely surprised at that. Mark smiled. "Don't you dare tell her. Refrain from that topic in girl talk, okay?"

Mimi smiled, doing exactly what Mark hoped she would. He also hoped she would let the subject go. Both on Maureen _and_ Roger. Her smile faltered a bit, and her eyes traveled back to Roger's door then to Mark's scar.

"I want to believe you, Mark, but I don't think you could have lived together for so long without doing anything. Plus, that reaction was definitely more than an 'I hurt just a friend' one." She said with the slightest hint of worry laced in her voice.

"Mimi, there's no proof I can offer you, but I _swear_ we didn't do anything." Mark said in all sincerity. This seemed to work because Mimi sighed in seemingly relief.

"Alright then." She walked to the door, turning before existing. "Tell him to meet me for dinner, okay?" When Mark nodded, Mimi gave him a smile and a wave, and she was gone.

Mark sighed yet again and went in his room. He finally got dressed, sparing one last look of distaste at the damn scar that started the whole mess. Mark left his room reluctantly, feeling so tired. When he entered the so-called living room, he was surprised to find Roger sitting on the couch, fiddling with his hands.

The guitarist barely looked up when Mark walked toward him, still focusing on his hands. Mark didn't know what to say without eliciting an angry response. However, to his surprise, Roger was the one to talk first.

"You lied." Roger stated quietly, still not looking at Mark. The filmmaker felt a little uneasy at the quiet detachment Roger was showing.

"Roger," Mark started gently, "I didn't want to bring it up if you didn't remember. I thought it would cause unnecessary emotions and –"

"No," Roger interjected, looking up. Mark braced himself for a shout. "I get that. It was stupid to get that upset over something that happened years ago. I'm sorry." Mark was surprised and was about to say something when Roger spoke again. "I meant you lied to Mimi." He finished quietly.

Mark furrowed his brow. "What? When?" He was at a loss. Roger just looked up at him, his eyes shining with something Mark was afraid to place.

"Never mind." He got up, running his hands through his hair. "So, I'm meeting her for dinner then? Better go down and see where she wants to go." He sounded almost as if he was resigned. Mark wasn't sure what was going on, but he definitely didn't like it.

"Hey, wait," Mark said loudly, surprising Roger and himself. Roger turned to him, eyebrow raised. Mark didn't actually know what he was doing. Roger stared at his roommate, waiting. "What did you mean?" Roger's face went blank, and that scared Mark more that it should have.

"Nothing. I said forget it." And with that he turned to leave again. Mark suddenly found himself pissed. He rushed at his roommate, grabbing him by the arm to turn him around so that they were facing each other.

"No, I won't. Every time I say those words, you never listen to me, so you don't get to walk away from this. Now explain." Mark spat, his eyes blazing. Roger stared back defiantly, which eventually crumbled under Mark's heated determination and harsh grip.

Roger sighed. "You lied to Mimi about not being sexual with me." Roger said with his eyes elsewhere. Mark blinked. He released Roger's arm in uncertainty. "You might not remember, or even _want_ to remember, but I do." He added softly. Mark panicked for a moment, the instance during Mark's poor decision flashing through his mind. But as he looked at Roger, he could tell that moment wasn't what he was referring to.

Mark looked at the man before him, taking in his appearance, the way he was slouching slightly, the way his eyes weren't looking at Mark, the way his hands were clenching and unclenching. Mark knew the silence was making Roger uncomfortable, but he just didn't know what to do next. Finally, as Roger started to retreat, Mark spoke.

"Valentine's Day, 1988." Roger stopped, his back still turned on Mark. "That's what you're talking about, isn't it?" Roger turned around, his eyes slightly wider than before. Mark wanted to laugh. "I don't really count that." Besides, Mimi would flip her shit if she found out.

"You don't count that." Roger echoed, his eyes narrowing. Mark began to get nervous as Roger moved closer to him. "A blow job isn't sexual to you?" Roger asked, his temper flaring a bit.

Mark backed up a little. "Roger, it's not that... It's just –"

"Just what, Mark?" Roger snapped. "You'd count something stupid and meaningless like using me to kill yourself, but you wouldn't count something that was meant to be special?" Roger breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. He knew what he just said, and he hoped that Mark would both get it and not.

Mark stayed silent. He had no idea what to say. He remembered that day perfectly, and it _was_ special. The way Roger waited for him, pretending to read a week's old newspaper, the way Roger grinned mischievously as he handed Mark the box with only a sentence in it, the way Roger threw him down and preceded to give Mark the best blow job he'd ever had, the whole day played with terrifying clarity in his mind's reel.

"Forget it. Obviously I was wrong..." Roger said finally, that defeated tone in his voice, bringing Mark back to the present. "I'm going to see Mimi." And without so much as a glance back, Roger left.

Mark just stared at the door. He didn't want to think about the feeling pinching at his gut, or what it might mean. He didn't even want to think about the rising urge to bring Roger back. Mark decided to go back to sleep, or at least take a nap. He didn't want to deal with these new thoughts and feelings. The last few months have been hell on both his body and mind.

_I just keep digging myself into a deeper hole..._

_._

_._

_End  
_


	2. Insecurities

A/N: So, I thought "Scars" would be a one-shot. I was wrong, ha ha! These silly bohemians just keep doing silly things. Also, because I'm a dumbass, I forgot to mention that this whole thing is a sequel to "Actual Reality." Fixed that in chapter one. Sorry about that...

I own nothing. Word count: 3,129

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Roger stared at Mimi in disbelief. "What?" He couldn't possibly have heard that right.

Mimi rolled her eyes. "I said I want to have a threesome with Mark." She repeated in perfect nonchalance. She stood in front of Roger, her body completely relaxed.

Roger just sat there on his couch, staring at this girlfriend. "What?" He asked again.

"Roger!" Mimi sighed exasperatedly. "You asked what I wanted for my birthday, and while I could ask you to shave that dumb beard you got going on there, I figured a threesome would be more special."

Roger placed his hand to his chin. He could use a shave... "A threesome, with me and Mark?" Roger asked slowly, trying to comprehend the request. Mimi smiled and nodded as if it there were nothing wrong with the idea. "Yeah... I'm not doing it."

"Why not?" Mimi demanded, her hands going to her hips in annoyance.

"Why not?" Roger asked incredulously, slouching into the beat up cushions. "Mimi, it's just ridiculous." Roger rubbed his face with his hands, feeling himself becoming annoyed with the conversation already.

"Roger," Mimi started slowly, "I want this threesome. I want to feel both of you inside me."

Roger tried not to wince. How could she talk so casually about this? He found himself getting the tiniest bit angry. "Mimi, I said I'm not doing it. You know how jealous I get. I don't like to share." Roger reminded her, hoping that would quiet her, at least for now.

Mimi, however, stood straighter, her eyes gleaming with an intense emotion. "Who don't you like to share, Roger?" She asked in a kind of menacing voice. "Me or _Mark_?" She looked at Roger with that intense gaze, the words biting and accusing.

For a second, Roger thought she was joking. Then for another, he was terrified. Then yet again, he was angry. Finally, he just sighed. "Did you just seriously ask that?" He questioned, the incredulous situation making him want to laugh. "Mimi, you're the one I'm dating." Roger said at last when he received no answer.

Which, apparently, was the wrong thing to say as a tension filled the air. Mimi looked almost hurt as she crossed her arms around herself. Roger wondered what the deal was.

"But you really want to be with _him_." Mimi stated with certainty, looking on the verge of tears. Roger was about to protest, but she cut him off. "Don't even, Roger. You think I'm blind?" She was angry now, whether at him or at herself, Roger wasn't entirely sure.

But Roger was angry too. He stood up, his fists clenched. "Goddamnit, Mimi," he almost growled, startling Mimi. "Why do you do this? I fell in love with you." Roger reached for her, grasping her hands, "Despite being a junkie, a stripper, a cheater," Mimi flinched at the word, "I still love you." Roger squeezed her hands together. "I should be the one who has all the doubts, not you. But I'm still here." He stared at her in complete seriousness. "I love you, Mimi."

Mimi stared into Roger's serious eyes and swallowed. "Then... marry me." She breathed, squeezing Roger's hands back. They stared at each other for a moment before Roger sighed, releasing Mimi's hands.

"No," Roger stated, rubbing his temples. "I'm not going to propose to you because you feel threatened by Mark." Roger sat back down on the worn out couch. "I don't even think we're close to ready for that leap." He completely deflated into the cushions. He looked at Mimi, looked at the way she pouted slightly, her abandoned hands hugging herself.

"You don't want to marry me?" She asked, the hurt in her voice clear. "Why not? Roger we've been dating for nearly four years." She stated, exasperatedly.

"And how many times have we broken up in those years?" Roger countered, levelly. "Mimi, it's not that I don't want to; it's because we're not ready." Roger ran his hands through his hair, trying to think of a way to make her see.

"We are," Mimi insisted, "and I can prove it." Mimi placed her hands on her hips, standing defiantly before him.

Regretting the question already, Roger asked, "How?" Mimi smiled sweetly at him, and Roger braced himself for the blow.

"The threesome with Mark." She stated, that sweet smile still in place. Roger rolled his eyes.

"How's that –"

"Think about it. If we're fine afterwards, we can last through marriage." Mimi said matter-of-factly. "You can overcome your jealousy, and I'll overcome my insecurity. It'll solve everything." Mimi stared at him, her eyes gleaming. Roger thought about it. It could ruin everything.

He wanted to tell her that her plan made absolutely no sense, but he knew she wouldn't listen. Sighing, Roger spoke, "Mark would never be into it."

Mimi's eyes lit up. "He'd do anything you'd ask, and you know it." She smiled as Roger grumbled. "So we're going through with it?"

Before Roger could say anything else, the door opened, revealing a slightly out of breath Mark toting his bike. Mark placed his bike down and smiled at the couple, then retreated to his room, pulling his camera out as he left. Roger raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, Mark?" Mimi called, a mischievous grin on her face. Roger rolled his eyes.

"Yeah?" came the reply a moment or two later, followed by shuffling noises. Roger briefly wondered what the dork was doing.

"Wanna have a threesome with me and Roger?" Mimi nonchalantly asked. Roger wasn't sure how to react to his girlfriend's easiness when it came to sex. He decided not to dwell on it.

"Not right now, maybe some other time," came the distracted sounding reply, still amongst shuffling noises. Mimi peered at Roger with a smirk on her face. Roger rolled his eyes. Then the noise stopped. Mark stepped out from his room slowly, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Something wrong?" Roger asked, the slightest worry in his voice, which he cursed himself for since Mimi gazed at him with narrowed eyes.

"Did you just ask if I wanted to have a threesome with you two?" Mark asked hesitantly, unsure if he heard right or not. Roger wanted to laugh at the look on his roommate's face. It was quite adorable.

"Yep. Want to?" Mimi confirmed brightly. Mark looked between the couple a few times. Mimi just smiled at him while Roger rose his eyebrow.

"No." Mark said simply. He turned to leave, and Roger was silently relieved. Mimi, however, wouldn't have it.

"Why not?" Mimi demanded, a pout to her lips. Roger scoffed. That wouldn't work on Mark.

"Why not?" Mark turned around, a disbelieving look on his face. "I am not touching you; Roger would kill me." Roger smirked.

"Mark, Roger said he was okay with it." Mimi stated with a smile, her eyes bright.

Mark looked uncertainly at Roger. "I don't believe that..." He looked at Mimi, a smile gracing his lips. "Nice one, though." He turned to leave. Mimi narrowed her eyes at Roger, nodding her head toward Mark. The musician sighed.

"Mark, stop being an ass and give us an answer." Roger spoke, trying to sound bored. He watched as Mark stopped dead in his tracks and turned around, face bewildered. Roger had to laugh. "C'mon, you idiot. Mimi wants it for her birthday present."

Mark looked at Mimi, who smiled sweetly and batted her lashes at him, pleading. Blinking, Mark spoke, "Sure, if you want that, Mimi. I guess so..." Mark scratched the back of his head.

Mimi squealed in delight while Roger mentally cursed. "Thank you, Mark!" She skipped forward to hug him, placing a kiss on his cheek. "Sex with my two favorite boys, what a treat! Let me go get ready." She winked as she walked to the bathroom.

Mark did a double take. "Wait, what? Your birthday's not till next week." Roger almost smirked at the panicked expression on Mark's face.

"Well, my monthly visitor will be here next week, so if you rather that we can wait." Mimi stated with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Roger rolled his eyes as Mimi laughed when Mark made a face.

"Well, okay," Mark conceded, "but why not do it the week after? I'm working on something right now..." He glanced toward his room quickly before pouting at Mimi, who looked at him suspiciously. "C'mon, it's not like I'm going to back out on it."

Roger watched as Mimi pouted, mulling it over. She looked at him for help, but Roger just shrugged. He was just fine with delaying it. Mimi sighed as she gave in to Mark's request.

"Fine. We'll do it after my birthday," Mark smiled and was about the leave when Mimi continued, "but you have to tell me what you're working on first."

Roger rolled his eyes as he took advantage of Mimi's distraction and went to the bathroom. Mark watched him go, wanting to curse him out. He sighed, turning his attention to the awaiting dancer.

"I can't tell you." He knew the answer wouldn't work, but he said it anyway.

"Mark!" Mimi whined, "That's not fair. We're missing out on sex because of your little project. Could you at least tell me something about it?" Mimi pouted again, crossing her arms over her chest.

Mark stared at her, thinking what information he could release without saying too much. Mimi didn't look like she was going to let it go, either. "It's a new documentary that I plan to enter at the next film festival, so I've got to hurry." He finally decided on saying, giving Mimi a look to drop it.

Mimi looked more interested, though, and her eyes lit up with excitement. "A new documentary? Really? That's awesome. What about?" She seemed genuinely interested, and Mark didn't want to be rude and tell her to knock it off. "Come on, Mark." Mimi cooed. The filmmaker didn't want to say that it was about her boyfriend because, really, how well would that go over? Roger didn't even know anything, for which Mark was grateful. Speaking of him...

"Hey..." Mark voiced suddenly, eyes looking around the loft. "Where's...?" He looked to the bathroom, his brow creasing with worry. Mimi followed Mark's gaze, confusion written all over her face. They both stood there for a moment, Mimi watching Mark and Mark trying to listen for something. When nothing happened after a few moments, Mark suddenly rushed to the bathroom door.

"Mark?" Mimi asked, becoming alarmed at the filmmaker's odd behavior.

"Roger?" Mark called and knocked on the door, almost frantically. "Roger!" Mark yelled, and Mimi could see the panic rise in him as he knocked again.

"Mark, what's going on?" Mimi asked when she noticed his hand shaking as he reached out for the door handle, Mark's other hand still knocking on the door.

"Roger!" Mark was in a panic as he gripped the handle. Mimi found her own heartbeat racing as she watched as Mark's breathing turn ragged.

Before Mark could turn the knob, the door flew open and a worried Roger appeared in the frame, his hand covering his chin. "Mark, calm –"

"Roger!" Mark sighed in relief, but then he noticed the few drops of blood that trickled from Roger's hand. "Roger, what happened? What did you do?" Mark's panic was back in full force. Mimi watched as he looked around frantically for something to stop the bleeding.

"Mark!" Roger barked, causing the filmmaker to still his movements. "Calm down. I was _shaving_." He turned his head, showing off the traces of his shaving cream still on his face. "I nicked myself, which is why I didn't open the door right away, so calm down." Roger explained smoothly, slowly, as if talking to a child. "Breathe."

Mark looked conflicted but took in deep breaths, trying to do what Roger told him. "You bastard..." He mumbled as he backed away from the musician, his composure somewhat regained.

Roger stared at his roommate, frowning the tiniest bit. "I know. I should have said something." He said quietly. Mark nodded in agreement, his eyes glued to the floor. "Go get some sleep or something." Mark finally looked up at Roger, who offered a smile small. "I'm _fine_, Mark."

Mimi watched in silence as Mark regarded Roger warily for a moment before walking quietly back to his room. Once his door was shut, Roger sighed. He looked at Mimi briefly before stepping back into the bathroom.

"Well," Mimi cleared her throat as she leaned against the door frame, "that was... something." She watched as Roger washed the blood, along with the rest of the shaving cream, off of his hands and chin. "How come you guys have these dramatic episodes when I'm around? Felt like putting on a show?" Mimi asked, trying to laugh, her voice not quite stable. Roger dried himself off, and Mimi narrowed her eyes at the look Roger gave her. It was a cross between "I'm getting tired of this" and "God, you're stupid."

When she didn't move from her position, Roger sighed, leaning against the sink. "See those spots on the floor?" Mimi craned her head to see the faded pink spots Roger pointed to near the edge of the tub. "Those are blood stains." Roger said flatly.

Mimi's eyes snapped to his. Roger was looking at her, not a trace of emotion on his face. Even his eyes were blank, and it scared her. "Whose?" She asked quietly, her throat suddenly dry.

Roger sighed again. "My ex-girlfriend April's." His eyes left hers for a moment, seeming to get lost in a haze of memories. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes, and released his breath. "She slit her wrists in here after writing 'we've got AIDS' on the mirror with lipstick." Roger opened his eyes again, looking straight at her with the same blank expression.

Mimi swallowed. "Oh." She didn't know what else to say. She glanced at spots again briefly before returning her attention back to her boyfriend. He glanced at them too, then ran his hands through his hair. "Is that why Mark...?" She didn't know what she was asking, really. She just couldn't take the silence.

Roger glared at her a little. "Mark was the one who found her. I came home to find him cradling her in his arms, panicking, but there was nothing he could do; she was already dead." Roger pushed himself away from the sink, standing up to his full height, his arms crossed in front of his chest. "So, you see, Mimi," he started, voice dangerously low, "Mark had every right to have his little 'episode' after that." He finished, very close to yelling. He took a deep breath to calm himself.

Mimi felt small in the door frame, at a loss for words. Roger looked at her, something close to pity dancing in his eyes. "I'm sorry." She managed to say. "I didn't know." It was a lame excuse, she knew, but it was all she had.

Roger regarded her for a moment then shrugged. "Yeah, well," he moved past her, walking toward the couch, "that's not exactly something I tell people." He plopped down, reaching for his guitar. "I've got baggage, remember? It just so happens that Mark shares some of it." Roger sighed as he played a cord, trying to think of something other than Musetta's Waltz to play.

Mimi walked over to him, chewing on her bottom lip. She sighed, deciding to just dive in the deep end. "Well, why don't we just talk about it? That way, I'll know what not to bring up or what not to do or something." She knelt in front of him, her hands resting on his knees. "What do you say, Roger?" She looked up at him with hopeful eyes and a smile small.

Her smile faded, though, when Roger narrowed his eyes at her. "Look, Mimi, I know you mean well, but I'd really like to forget that part of my life. I don't remember much during that time thanks to the damn drug, and what's worse, I received a fucking death sentence due to the life I was living." Roger gently pushed Mimi's hands away from his knees. "I think you should go." He sighed as he watched her get up, hurt evident in her eyes.

"You want me to just leave?" Mimi questioned quietly, hating herself as she let her eyes get watery. She felt so small and lost and confused. The life Roger talked about hating was the very same that she was still living, though not as much as she used to; she _was_ trying to quit. It scared her to think of the idea that Roger could hate her as much as he did his old life.

Roger looked at her, his own eyes glazing over with the tell tale signs of tears. He removed his guitar from his lap and placed it on the cushion next to him, standing up. Roger reached out to bring the skinny woman close to him. He caressed her cheek, smoothing a strand of stray hair behind her ear. "We've all been through a lot today." He stated, placing a small kiss to her forehead. "I just think we need some time to think on things." He hugged her, resting his chin on her head. "You know, to process everything."

Mimi inhaled sharply, closing her eyes in a vain attempt to stop the tears from falling. "We're okay, then?" She asked timidly as she clung to him. "You're not mad?" She pulled away slightly, so she could look into his eyes. "We're okay?"

Roger sighed. "Yeah." She searched his eyes, worry still laced in her own. "We're fine, Mimi," Roger repeated, squeezing her in reassurance, "we just need a night to ourselves. Then we can go back to fighting about your birthday present." He offered her a small smile, hoping it would lighten the mood.

It worked; she smiled, though she sniffled a little. "What fight? I already won." She tried to laugh, but it came across like a tiny sob. Roger rubbed small circles into her back for comfort. Mimi took a deep, shaky breath. "Okay, then," she detached herself from his embrace, rubbing at her eyes, "I'll see you later?" She asked as she walked to the door, turning for an answer.

Roger only nodded, that small smile still on his lips. Mimi nodded to herself, waved good bye, and, with a final wary look, left the loft.

The smile on Roger's lips faded as soon as the door shut. He collapsed on the couch, bringing his hands over his face and letting out a frustrated sigh.

_Today was _not_ a good day._

.

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End?

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A/N: I doubt I'll actually write the threesome. If I continue this, I was planning on just focusing on the aftermath, unless people want the actual scene... Thoughts?


End file.
